Three Sides
by KeatsLove
Summary: Claire can't help her attraction for Desmond but Charlie can't be ignored either. 'Daire' and 'Chaire' fluff with some angst.
1. Chapter 1

Waiting

He's waiting up ahead. Desmond. Probably not waiting for me. If he was, I doubt he'd admit it. He has been rather honest with me of late, but it doesn't take psychic powers to know I walk the same stretch of beach every morning at this time.

But what if he is waiting for me?

"Hey, Des," I call, combing my fingers through my hair just to keep them occupied or I'd probably be tearing loose thread from my shirt hem. "What are you doing out this morning?"

"Just thinking," he says. "Of you."

"Of. . .Of me?"

He shrugs, running a hand through his own messy brown hair. "I'm sorry if I scared you before. With the lightning rod and. . .and other things that happened. I never meant to."

"Water under the bridge," I say. "Better safe than sorry, right? You were looking out for us."

"I just. . .I just want you to know that I'm trying but I can't keep him safe forever. I'm really trying, Claire."

"I know you are, Desmond," I say since acknowledging his efforts seems really important to him. "Thank you. I know, in a way, you're doing it for me since Charlie means something to Aaron and I."

"I just--" he begins before changing his mind with a shake of his head. "I wasn't always so noble but I'm trying to change. If it's true that the Island changes people, I'm hoping it will work it's magic on me."

I smile, stepping forward to take his hand in both of mine. He recoils as if stung, but gradually relaxes when I don't let go and even curls his fingers around mine with a smile.

"You're very. . .You're very comforting," he says. "Something about your presence." He shakes his head again, as if fighting a war within himself. "Charlie is a very lucky man."

"Charlie's not my boyfriend," I say, tracing the top of Desmond's hand with my thumb.

"Yeah? What is he then?" Desmond asks, eyebrows quirking up in interest.

"I don't know," I say on a shrug. "Would-Be-Boyfriend, I suppose. Friend for sure but, sometimes, I wonder. . ." I stop myself before revealing too much. "At any rate, he cares about Aaron a lot and that's important to me."

"You'll meet a lot of people who care about Aaron," Desmond says.

"Is that something you _see_ or something you're just guessing at?" I ask.

Desmond smiles, half sad, half regretful, before pulling his hand away. "Don't you think your walk has been long enough? You should head back."

"Des?" I say, looking over my shoulder as I turn to head back toward camp.

"Yeah?"

"You can join me on my walks anytime. I don't mind the company."

He smiles. That slow, shy smile of his that my mind's fixated on far too much lately. I waggle my fingers in a good-bye wave and he does the same.

I have a feeling my morning beach walks just may get a lot more interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

Part II

"You're getting good at that," I say, watching as Desmond continues to skip stones into the water.

He turns toward me, arm still raised with his last stone. He lowers it quickly, dropping the stone into the sand. "I. . .I come here to think."

"So do I," I say. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" I sigh. "It's times like these that I wish we were never rescued."

"Yeah?" he asks. "Don't you have anyone waiting' back home?"

I shake my head. "Aaron's dad is long gone." I shrug it off before Desmond can say something meant to make me feel better about being abandoned in the middle of my pregnancy. "His loss. I've thought that since the second he walked out the door."

"You don't always have to be so brave, Claire," Desmond says softly, taking my hand hesitantly. I curl my fingers around his, liking the feel of his work rough hand around mine.

"I'm not always brave."

"Then don't always _act_ so brave," he amends.

His eyes are brilliant. So dark and soulful. I take a step forward to be closer to Desmond and those magnetic eyes. I find myself tip toeing, trying to reach his lips.

"What's this?"

Charlie.

Desmond drops my hand, turning away, and I'm left to face Charlie who's looking confused and possibly a little hurt.

"What are you doing here, Charlie?" I ask. "You know I was about to head back."

"Is this what you do every day?" he asks. "When I'm watching Aaron?"

"It's not what it looks like, brother," Desmond says, attempting to come to my rescue.

"Really?" Charlie says, rounding on him. "To me, it looks like you're trying to encroach on what's mine."

"I'm not property!" I explode. "You can't claim me in the Name of England. It doesn't work that way, Charlie. It doesn't work."

"Claire! Claire, wait!" Charlie calls when I run the opposite direction back towards camp. I can hear his breathing and footsteps pounding behind me. He manages to grab me by the elbow and jerk us both to a stop. "I said wait."

"I don't do what you tell me to, Charlie," I say, trying to fight down the urge to cry. "I don't know where you get off acting like that but--"

He's kissing me. And not in his usual chaste way. His hands move to my face and my knees go a little weak. I wrap my arms around his neck blindly, pulling him closer, marveling in the feel of his breath, lips, and tongue. I make a little sound of protest deep in my throat when he pulls back.

"We can--" He needs to catch his breath. "We can continue this later."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Charlie takes my hand and we continue back toward camp together. I glance over my shoulder back the way we came.

Desmond's gone.

I wonder if he saw what just happened between Charlie and I and if he even cares.


	3. Chapter 3

Part III

"Charlie's jealous," Desmond says without preamble, sitting down heavily next to me on the makeshift 'couch' that's really someone's hard sided suitcase with an airline blanket thrown over top. "It doesn't take a physic to see that."

"Well, hello to you too," I say, marking my place in the book Sawyer lent me and stowing it next to the couch. "Jealous of what?"

"Of the time you spend in my company," Desmond says, forking a hand through his messy brown hair. "We should stop."

"Stop being friends?"

"Stop before it develops further," he says, motioning at the space between him and me. "Us. It has to stop."

"It didn't know it even started."

Desmond scowls, obviously hoping I'd make this easy on him. "Perhaps I'm not making myself clear, Claire. It will be very difficult to remain 'just friends.' I am putting a stop to whatever is building before it even starts." He motions at the space between us again. "This will not work. I won't let it. You deserve better."

"I can make my own decisions, Desmond."

He shakes his head. "Not in this matter. I'm making it for you. You deserve better."

"What's better than you?" I challenge.

"There are a million choices better than me."

"Name one."

He shakes his head again. "Let's just leave it at 'you deserve better.'"

"What I deserve and what I choose, rarely go hand in hand," I point out. "Aaron deserves a father but I chose a scared little boy who ran off on us. You insist that I deserve someone better, but I choose not to listen." I give him one of my tight, determined little smiles. "Something inside you, Desmond, is scared. Of what, I don't know, but let me help you."

He reaches out as if to caress m cheek or brush back my hair but stops himself at the last minute, hand dropping uselessly to his side. "You're so very good, Claire. So light. I would be lying if I said I didn't find that attractive, but I'm not meant for that For you. I'm dark. Dangerous."

"That's ridiculous, Desmond," I say, trying to see into his downcast eyes. "Don't you know everyone gets second chances here?"

"Aye," he sighs, standing. "But I've already used up my second, third, and fourth chances. How many will the island allow?"

"As many as it takes," I insist, trying to reach for his hand but he steps out reach.

"I'll warn you again, Claire. I'm not for the likes of you. Make nice with Charlie. He can handle the light."

"It can't be as bad as all that," I say. "Let me help you, Desmond."

He shakes his head, turning away. "You can't help me, Claire. No one can."


	4. Chapter 4

Part IV

Why can't I sleep?

It was Charlie's idea to put our pallets together but I didn't say no. He has his arm thrown over me now, snoring away. He could sleep through anything.

"Charlie?" I whisper, wriggling about till I'm facing him. "Charlie?"

Nothing.

I sigh, trying to match my breathing to his, hoping it will calm me and help me feel drowsy. No such luck.

There's a rustling and some motion off to the left. I know I shouldn't, it's not the best of plans to ever follow anything about the island in the dark, but I won't go too far in case Aaron wakes and I can scream with the best of them if there's trouble.

I manage to slip free of Charlie's arm without much trouble and find my sandals near the foot of our double pallet. I pull his hoodie over my t-shirt since the nights are getting colder and set off in the direction the shape went. Maybe it's someone meeting for a secret tryst. That would liven things up around here. My money's on Kate and Jack. They've been giving each other moon eyes since they got back. Come to think of it, they've _always_ been giving each other moon eyes. This could be interesting.

The moon illuminates the beach and turns everything silver. Even the water is touched with soft color. A single figure is sitting cross-legged facing the water, face upturned. Hair's too long to be Jack. Hey, wait. . . .

It's Desmond.

Well, that just changes everything.

"Fancy meeting you here," I say, coming up from behind him.

Desmond turns his head as I sit. "What are you doing here, Claire?"

"Same thing you are, I suppose," I say. "I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd take a walk."

"You followed me."

I smile wryly. "Can't fool the psychic, huh?" I shrug. "Alright. You got me. I followed you. I was curious who was making off in the night so decided to check it out for myself. Truthfully? I thought it was some secret lovers meeting."

He does a little half laugh-half sound of amusement. "Sorry to disappoint you."

I pull my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. "Nah. I'm not disappointed. I like being around you."

"I came to watch the moon," Desmond says before I can ask. He tips his face up toward it again, smiling as if something so simple as the moon meant a great deal to him. "I lived underground for three years of my life. I've missed the moon."

"It is pretty," I agree.

"When I was sailing, before I came here, I used to sit out on deck each night, watch the moon, and write really bad poetry to Pen. None of it was any good so I threw it in the water. Too much rum and missing a woman don't necessarily mix well."

"Pen?" I ask. "That's the woman in the picture you carry about?"

Desmond takes it out of his pocket, unfolds it, and holds it out toward me. "Penelope. I thought about asking her to marry me once."

"Why didn't you?"

"I wasn't good enough for her."

"You seem to say that to a lot of people," I say, re-folding the photo and handing it back to him.

"It's the truth."

"So where is she now?" I ask, strangely fascinated by this woman. This ghost from his past.

Desmond shrugs, gaze returning to the bright moon. "Probably married. Perhaps a kid or two. With any luck, she's forgotten all about me."

"I think you'd be rather hard to forget, Desmond."

He looks at me—really looks at me—and I get the feeling he's reading and judging all the thoughts swirling around in my mind that shouldn't be there but I can't push aside none-the-less. I know it's wrong to be thinking of Desmond when I have Charlie at my beck and call, but I can't help it any more than the tide can help going in and out.

"I'm not looking for a replacement for Pen," he warns.

I reach out to touch his hair, glad he lets me skim my fingers through it, touching his neck and shoulders tentatively with my fingertips. "Good because I'm no one's replacement."

I place both hands flat against his jawline, digging my fingers into his hair and pulling him closer. Desmond doesn't stop me, eyes wide open, perhaps just as curious as me on what would happen next. What it would feel like to be kissing and feeling instead of always warning and wary.

Aaron's hungry cries stop me a hair's breath from Desmond's lips. His breath catches, fanning my face, and I sigh, disappointed, using Desmond's shoulders to lever myself to a standing position.

"I'm sorry," I say. "Not for what almost happened, but for the fact I have to leave. Aaron needs me."

"Don't trouble yourself with me," he says as I look over my shoulder toward camp. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," I assure him. "I'm not asking for forever, Desmond. I'm asking for, well, for you to let me in a little. Don't carry all that burden alone. Let me help."

He shakes his head. "We've been over this before. Go tend to your baby and forget what nearly happened here."

"I'm not easily discouraged, Desmond," I warn. "I like a challenge. It excites me." I lean close, letting my long hair brush his cheek and shoulder as I whisper near his ear "That's not all that excites me."

His breath catches again and he makes a low moan deep in his throat. "Go, Claire. Go now."

"I'll let you wrestle with your own conscience, Desmond," I say as I head back towards camp. "But mine is clear. Completely clear."


	5. Chapter 5

Part V

_Be nice to Charlie. Be nice to Charlie. Be nice to Charlie._ I repeat to myself like a mantra as I nurse Aaron. He only wants to help us out. I shouldn't let my hormonal self go flying off the handle when little things he does annoy me.

"Claire. Claire, look what Sun gave me," the man in question says, holding out the green, oozy plant like some sort of peace offering. He looks very eager-little-boy with his sandy hair flopping into his eyes. I can't help but smile.

"Aloe," I say. "For diaper rash, am I right?"

Charlie nods. "I told her he doesn't much have a problem with that yet, but she told me to take it anyway. I guess we can store it in one of Arntz's old jars till then."

"Thank you, Charlie. That's very thoughtful."

"I'll go get that jar now," he volunteers, turning without a second thought and heading toward the little area Arntz's experiments and specimen are still set up. No one's had the heart to take them down.

I finish nursing Aaron, laying him down in his cradle to nap. I button up my shirt and tidy my hair as much as I can without a comb, waiting for Charlie.

"Had to displace a grasshopper to nick the jar, but I don't think he minded," Charlie says when he reappears, setting the jar in the sand near Aaron's cradle. He sits next to me, brushing his shaggy hair out of his eyes. "Claire?"

"Yes, Charlie?"

"Would you mind taking a walk with me?" he asks. "Hurley told me about this cool little place on the beach. He was going to take Libby there before. . .well, before she died."

"Isn't it the same place Shannon went with Sayid?" I think a moment, before shaking my head. "I don't like the track record of that place, Charlie. Bad things happen to the girls who go there. . .Or even plan to go there."

"That's just coincidence," he insists.

I shake my head again. "Nothing is coincidence here."

"You don't fancy a walk then?"

"Not there."

"Somewhere else then?" Charlie asks, managing to make each word sound like a question.

"Somewhere where people don't die would be fine, yes."

Charlie stands, holding out a hand for me. He turns, calling to the first person he sees. "Desmond! Hey, mate, would you mind watching the baby?"

Desmond comes over, looking silently from Charlie and I's joined hands to Aaron's sleeping form. I blush, hoping he can't tell what I'm thinking.

"Will you watch Aaron?" Charlie asks again since he didn't get an answer the first time.

He nods slowly. "Aye. Going for a walk, are you?"

"Just a walk," I insist, blushing even more when Desmond's gaze swings toward me and I can tell he is thinking what I'm thinking. . .Or would be thinking if it was him and me going for this so-called walk instead of me and Charlie. "Aaron might need his nappy changed if he wakes up but you can always take him to Sun if you're uncomfortable doing it."

"I'll manage."

"Thanks, mate," Charlie says, speeding the process along by tugging at my hand. I kiss my hand and lay it again Aaron's soft forehead, waving thanks to Desmond as I'm drug away.

"You didn't have to tug so hard," I complain to Charlie once we're away from camp. "I was just saying good bye to Aaron. I'm not used to being apart."

"If we're going to manage any time alone together, we needed to go," Charlie says. He stops suddenly, pulling out a blue airline blanket from behind a fallen log and laying it on the sand. "For you, my lady."

I laugh, sitting cross legged on the blanket. "How sweet, Charlie. Where'd you find it?"

"Right there. Someone must have had plans of a dubious nature before me."

"Dubious?" I tease. "Is that what you have in mind?"

Charlie grins, plopping down next to me and seeming to enjoy my good mood. "All that and more."

It really is rather nice kissing Charlie. I can't deny that. He moves his hands to either side of my face, pulling me closer, and I let myself be drawn deeper. How I've missed this. Just simple affection and the zing-zing of sensation as my mind shuts down and my body takes over. This emotional recklessness has gotten me in trouble in the past but, right now, I don't care. I just don't care.

"Bloody Hell!" Charlie swears suddenly, wrenching away.

I blink rapidly, trying to clear my fussy mind. "What? What is it?"

"I'm sorry," Desmond says, somehow beside us even in this secluded spot, Aaron in his arms. "Aaron woke up and wanted you."

"So now you're the bleedin' Baby Whisperer?" Charlie says, foul look matching his foul mood. "What else did Aaron tell you?"

"He needs his mother," Desmond says, gently handing Aaron over when I stand and hold out my arms. "Sometimes nothing else will do."

"Thank you for watching him," I say, tip-toeing to kiss Desmond's cheek impulsively. Charlie releases a string of curses under his breath at the gesture. "You were right to come find me. . .If he needed me."

Desmond looks away and I want desperately to ask _"Is Aaron the only one who needed me?" _but hold the words back. That would just set Charlie off even more and the last thing we need is fight. Especially over me.

"Thanks again, Desmond," is all I say, cuddling Aaron close and heading back down the beach toward camp.

Charlie stays behind. Perhaps to have a 'talking to' with Desmond. I don't know. I don't want to know.


	6. Chapter 6

Part VI

"Mind if I join you?" I ask, finding Desmond alone as usual, back against a log, eyes closed and head tilted like he's listening to nature or something.

He cracks one eye open. "Following me again?"

"No," I say. "Well, ok, yes. I like spending time with you." I take a step closer. "Is that so wrong?"

"It's been a long time since I've been anything but alone," Desmond says. "I may be bad company."

"I'll let you know if you are," I promise. I motion at the space in front of him. "Mind if I sit?"

"By all means, do."

I sit cross-legged in front of him, leaning back against his chest though this is probably not what he had in mind when he said it was ok that I join him.

"This is not a smart idea, Claire," Desmond says, arms wrapping around me – right below my breasts – none-the-less. "You're like that apple in Eden. So tempting to taste but best left untouched."

"Do you enjoy being tempted?" I counter, biting my lip to stop a triumphant "I knew you did!" when his body gives me the involuntary answer. I snuggle closer, making sure to rub against parts whose reactions are out of his control. Men are so easy to read sometimes.

Desmond's breath catches, rasping roughly through his teeth. "I really wish you wouldn't do that."

"Sorry. Just trying to get comfortable," I lie.

"You know, you look like an angel but act like a little devil," Desmond says, breath warm in my ear.

"I used to dress Goth," I say. "Mostly just to annoy my Mum. She hated it."

"Why'd you stop?" Desmond asks, lips grazing my ear. I wonder if it's an accident or not.

"It wasn't really me." I shrug. "Just a phase, I suppose. Besides, the dye was killing my hair."

"And how long have you been a forward little minx?"

I laugh at his words. "Around the same time I went Goth. I was pregnant once, before Aaron," I confide. "But I lost it. Again, another 'let's annoy Mum' moments. Not my most shining moment – playing emotional poker with a little being's life – so I'm glad I lost it. I wasn't ready then. I didn't think I was ready for Aaron either but now I can't imagine a life without him."

"He's a sweet boy," Desmond agrees.

I tilt my head back, kissing the underside of his chin, lips tickled by his whiskers. "Thank you. Aaron's the best thing that's happened to me on the island. If we had landed in LA, I was planning to give him up."

"Then it's good for Aaron too," Desmond says. "He gets his Mum."

"Yeah. Even if he doesn't have a Dad," I say. "I suppose having one parent is better than none."

Desmond's arms tighten around me and I close my eyes, allowing myself to enjoy the moment. Enjoy the feeling of being close to him.

"Charlie's looking for you," he says suddenly. "You should head back."

I sigh, regretfully disentangling myself from Desmond and climbing to my feet. "Maybe we can meet again like this?" I say, voice rising hopefully.

Desmond smiles. "Maybe."

That's better than no. I'll take it. "See you, Desmond," I say, waving as I set off toward camp.

"See ya, Claire," he replies.

My steps seem lighter somehow. I even hum the chorus of 'You All Everybody' as I walk.


	7. Chapter 7

Part VII

"So, does your shirt actually have buttons or do you just not like to do them up, Desmond?" I tease, motioning at his always hanging-open blue shirt. Not that I mind. He could run around shirtless and I still wouldn't mind. Hell, I'd welcome it.

He grins, holding out a mango for me. "For a new mother, you get away quite a lot, Claire."

"Lots of people want to babysit," I say, taking the offered fruit and sitting cross legged in front of him, our knees touching. I like this new spot of his by the caves better than the beach. It's more intimate.

"What are you escaping from today?" Desmond asks, mango juice dribbling down his chin.

I shrug, widening my eyes in the chance of looking innocent and hoping he can't read minds as well as tell the future. "Just need a break, that's all."

"You should have some time alone."

"I'd rather be here than all alone," I confess, grinning as I take a bit of my mango, lifting my shirt just enough to expose my belly in order to wipe the juice from my chin. I hear Desmond's breath catch and smile to myself before lowering the material, tugging it back into place. "I think Charlie's writing a song for Aaron. A sort of lullaby because he's been having trouble sleeping."

Desmond inclines his head. Not really a nod. I think it's what he does when he's thinking over something. "I hope it works."

"Thanks."

An awkwardness hangs between us that hasn't been there before. I don't like it. I don't like feeling as if I can't speak freely. "So, uh, Desmond," I say, trying to find the right words to voice something I've been dying to know more about. "You keep telling me how 'dark' you are. What did you do that was so bad?"

Desmond shakes his head. "That is not a story for the likes of you, Claire."

"Then who would you tell it to?"

"Not you," he insists, drawing his lips into a thin, determined line. "I won't burden you with that."

"But I'm asking," I say. "I want to know. Sometimes if you talk to someone, it makes the burden lighter." I reach out a hand, wrapping my fingers around his, and stroking long, even lines down the back of his hand with my thumb. "Don't think you're all alone, Desmond. You're not. You've got me if you're willing."

"I'm not," he says, pulling away. He even goes so far as to stand up to create distance. "Go back to Charlie. I'm sure he's got some inner wounds that need healing."

"Go back to Charlie!" I say, pushing myself roughly to my feet. "Go back to Charlie! Why do you always tell me to go back to Charlie?"

"Because he, unlike me, welcomes your attention."

Now it's my turn to have my breath catch in my throat, hissing raggedly through my teeth. "You don't mean that, Desmond. I thought. . .I thought you liked our talks together."

"You never come here to talk, Claire, and we'd both be hurting a good man if I ever even for one second entertain a thought of that nature for you." He forks both hands through his hair. "I say "Go back to Charlie' because that is where you belong."

"I'm tired of people deciding my life for me!" I cry, balling my hands into angry fists at my side. "I am not helpless! I can make my own decisions and I. . .and I can damn well decide where I do and do not belong."

Tears. I'm crying. In front of Desmond.

Oh, bugger.

He notices, holding out a hand and starting the beginnings of an apology but I run before he can get more than "Claire, I'm--" out.

Why do I make such bloody poor choices when it comes to men? Why do I let myself fall into the same patterns time and again? I'm supposed to be fixing that. That's what I told myself after Thomas left. No more poor choices. I was going to find myself a nice steady bloke who had a real job and wasn't one of those struggling artist types. Instead, I have a ex-drug addict musician for a semi-boyfriend and I'm chasing after an angst riddled physic.

When will I ever learn?


End file.
